


always and now, the road

by orphan_account



Series: along the invisible curve [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2nd work in "Along the Invisible Curve"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They'd kissed, once, of course, the once Johnny really didn't like to think about, not because the kiss had been bad, but because thinking about what he'd said to Stéphane afterwards made his stomach flip uncomfortably.

And, well, there had been moments, of course, before all the complicated stuff had gotten in the way, moments of heated, blurred rubbing, completely accidental, and lying on each other or rolling over each other wrestling, or just fooling around like any two boys would. There had been times there had been one chair too few in front of the computer and he'd settled on Stéphane's lap instead, smiling, or the other way around.

What had never even crossed Johnny's mind when he'd decided to give the whole boyfriends-thing a whirl - not that it was a whirl, at all, no, and he wouldn't ever call it that to Stéphane, because seriously, he might just turn out that bug after all - well, he hadn't thought their behaviour towards each other might somehow change. Like, become less frequent than before, when they'd been 'just' friends.

When, about two weeks ago, Stéphane had said, 'Get in' and made some space for Johnny, pecking him on the mouth, Johnny's body had yelled, 'Yay' and when they'd cuddled, well, certain parts had definitely started to take notice that something was going on here, and that, soon, there might be even more going on.

Yeah. Uh, except, not so much.

And it wasn't even that Stéphane was ashamed of them being together, because he had nothing against brushing Johnny's hair out of his face in the middle of the hallway or pulling him close by his hips to whisper something in his ear. Oh no, that was all still happening, and it was all still very much adding to the fact that the hockey, the football, the soccer and the basketball team were probably plotting with all their two brain cells combined how to make them omg _stop_.

Not that Johnny gave a fuck what they plotted, as long as they didn't hurt Stéphane. And he'd make sure nobody hurt Stéphane.

But, well. It was a little strange.

This day, Johnny was, as so often lately, alone in his room with Stéphane - and he was pretty sure he'd heard Brian pass by the door outside at _least_ two times more than necessary already - and they weren't even kissing.

Not that there had been any kissing going on which would have made this an exception... the occasional peck on the lips, yeah. However, Johnny wanted more. Johnny wanted Stéphane's tongue, the warmth of his mouth, preferably for a long time, giving Johnny all his undivided attention.

He'd granted his new boyfriend enough time to get acquainted with the idea, he finally decided. They'd been playing chess on the floor, and Johnny was lagging behind, because his thoughts weren't on the game but on the se- kissing. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was losing, that he in the heat of the moment pushed the board aside rather vehemently and crawled the good meter that seperated them forward to plop down in Stéphane's lap and attack his mouth.

Not a good idea, as it turned out. Stéphane let him sit there for approximately 1.239 seconds before he gave a 'oomph' sound and unceremoniously pushed Johnny off himself with a shove.

"Ouch, fucking ouch," Johnny swore. "What are you doing?"

"The question is... what are you doing?" Stéphane asked, staring at him rather confused.

"Oh, hell, if you need to ask, we really do have a problem!"

Stéphane raised his eyebrows. "You're making even less sense than usual."

Johnny sat up, put his chin on his raised knees and locked eyes with him. "Why don't you let me kiss you?"

"Oh." Stéphane's cheeks reddened. "Is that what this is about?"

"Yes!"

"Oh. I didn't - you surprised me!" Stéphane pointed out. "There is no need to destroy a good game - that I was winning, by the way -"

"- trust you to notice _that_ -"

"- that I was winning," Stéphane repeated sardonically, "just to jump me like a savage. You could ask?"

Johnny glared. "Right. Let's try that, shall we." He crawled closer again, this time more slowly to make sure Stéphane knew that he knew exactly how this made him squirm, and then he leaned over and whispered in Stéphane's ear, "Can I put my tongue in your mouth now?"

Stéphane turned bright red and jerked back.

"See?" Johnny smirked. "Not working, is it? Because, well, look at me. Still sitting here, not getting any kissing action. So. What's the problem?"

Stéphane shrugged, not looking at him.

"Dude." Johnny touched his knee, which made Stéphane wince even worse. Johnny sighed and gave him some space. "Look, you can just tell me. It's not like there's anything that would make me think any less of you that I don't already know. And you want this to work, right?" His head jerked up. "You - you didn't change your mind, did you? Is that - did you decide you don't want to, after all?"

"No, no," Stéphane shook his head quickly. "No, I - I want. I want you to be my boyfriend. It's... well. It's just..."

"What?" Johnny said, frustrated. "You're making me nervous!"

Stéphane flushed again. "Iwonbabletstopiffestart," he mumbled.

"What?"

The flush intensified. "I said," he scowled, "that I'm pretty sure if we do what you want, I won't be able to stop before - well. And - and you'll think I'm a big, girly loser, but I don't - I don't want just yet. You know?"

"Want what?" Johnny asked, clueless.

"To have sex, you moron!" Stéphane hissed sharply.

Johnny jolted back in shock, blinking. "There's no need to bitch at me just because you're embarrassed!"

An uncomfortable silence hitched up the tension between them from 'really fucking bad' to 'almost unbearable'. Johnny shifted. Stéphane was glaring at the far wall.

"Look," Johnny finally started cautiously. He had no idea how to react. Stéphane had never been this strage about sex before - then again, before, it had never been in relation to him. Or them. Together. "It's okay. I - obviously, I want to have sex - all the time even," he gave a strangled little laugh which Stéphane ignored in favour of making the poor wall sweat, so Johnny continued, "but I don't think we should jump to it first thing either. I don't think that's stupid. I guess we'll just have to see how it goes, right?"

Some tension left Stéphane's shoulders and he slumped a bit, expression softening. Johnny breathed out. He hoped this wasn't going to come back to bite him in the ass later, should things get out of control. He could talk now about going slow all he wanted, but they were two guys, and, well, if things got out of hand, things got out of hand. Everyone knew that a guy's dick had a mind of its own.

Not that that would be any good to reassure Stéphane, so he wisely kept this to himself, for once. He was so proud of himself, he almost patted his own shoulder.

"Are you okay now?"

Stéphane sighed and his gaze swivveled from the wall to settle back on Johnny. He looked already less strained. "Yeah," he muttered. "I'm fine. I'm sorry for being mean earlier, that was... well. Mean."

Johnny shrugged. "I hate it." Blunt was good. Blunt and honest. No more lies, he'd promised himself, so if this was getting out, it was all getting out.

"What do you mean?"

"I hate that you're being all... different about this. It's like you're treating me like I'm a stranger, and I hate it. We're still best friends. We've been hissy at each other thousands of times before, but now, you make it sound like you need to be, I don't know, polite about it or something, and I hate hate hate hate hate it!"

Stéphane looked at him for a while, then his expression turned thoughtful. "I think - well, it's because the rules have changed. It's like the rules have changed, but nobody thought to give me the new manual," he said, helpless.

"There's no new rules," Johnny replied, growing a little frustrated. "We're still friends. We are, aren't we?"

"Yes, but -"

"So we're friends," Johnny hurried on, "but with something more, like, we can kiss and stuff, right?"

From the look Stéphane gave him - a wide-eyed, surprised, and slightly hurt look - Johnny concluded that he'd just fucked up big time. His stomach turned.

"I didn't mean it like that," he corrected quickly. "I didn't, I swear. I love you -"

"- like a friend."

Johnny winced. "Well, yes, but -"

Stéphane was on his feet quicker than Johnny could follow.

"Wait, no, look, don't run away?" he begged. "Stéphane, don't be like that, please, you know exactly that you're not -"

"It would be fine." Stéphane said. He was standing by the door, hand half-way to the door-handle, but he wasn't running, yet. He wasn't looking at Johnny either. "It would be fine, if that's what you wanted. To be... I don't know. What do you call it? Friends with benefits. Don't think I wouldn't take anything I can get -"

"But -"

"But I _am_ in love with you. You know that, right?" He glanced at Johnny shortly, saw the hesitant nod. "Yeah. So, I think it's slightly unfair that you know I am, but I have no idea what you think."

Johnny blinked. When the _hell_ had they jumped the question whether or not to have sex to the all-important being-in-love talk-about-your-feelings question and why hadn't he noticed soon enough to stop it? Some kind of eloquent talker he was.

"You're not answering," Stéphane prodded.

"There was no question," Johnny deadpanned and winced, because _damn_ , not their usual fool-around situation where something like this would have gone over like a laugh.

Stéphane didn't react, thankfully, just bit his lip and said, "Fine. You want it spelled out; I won't say it's not typical. Are you, or aren't you in love with me back?"

"It's not a yes-or-no answer!" Johnny huffed. "I can't answer that, you can't -"

"Right." Stéphane turned his back to the door to lean against it and met Johnny's eyes, fair and square. "That answers that question."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You said enough."

"Just because I'm not certain does not make my feelings for you anything less than what they are!" Johnny burst out, angry. "Stop being such a fucking dickhead about it. So I'm not as fast as you to getting there - oh, no, wait." He tilted his head, glaring, sarcastic. "Tell me again how long you've been thinking about that? Just for the record? Because from where I'm sitting, I'm getting the impression that you've had your share of fucking years to think about it, while I get all of - what? Two minutes nineteen seconds before you bolt for the door like the fucking coward you are?"

Stéphane glared, mortified. "I haven't - who told - how do you know that?"

Johnny shrugged, suddenly wishing he hadn't said anything. "It was just a shot," he muttered.

Stéphane narrowed his eyes. "You're a crappy liar."

"I'm not telling you, then."

"Fine."

"Good. Now, can you come back here and sit down again? Because you standing there makes it feel weird. I don't want to yell at you about this."

It took him a good minute to work up the nerve, it seemed, but then Stéphane did seperate from the door and came back, sitting down gingerly. He picked a bit at the carpet, and they didn't speak, until he said, "It's just... you said it, once. Back in my bed. You said it, but you didn't seem to understand that it's important to me, you just kind of made it a throw-away thing and I don't - I don't want to be, maybe, one day, that friend you fucked in high school."

Johnny stared. "What?"

"Don't look like that," Stéphane said, getting slightly defensive. "It's true! We might not even make it to college, it - it might really be just some kind of - of let's-give-it-a-whirl, it-may-work-out thing for you..." and wasn't Johnny glad he hadn't shared _that_ notion with Stéphane. Dude.

"You're giving this way too much thought," he finally blurted.

"And you're giving it too little," Stéphane snapped. "Aside from the sex, it seems. That's the part that gets a lot of thought."

"Like you aren't thinking about it all the damn time," Johnny said derisively. "And don't even start denying it, hypocrite, because I'll go ask Chris how often you change your sheets and -"

"John-ny!" Stéphane pushed his shoulder to shut him up.

Johnny smirked. "So don't talk bullshit."

"And you don't try to distract from the topic." Stéphane ran his hand through his hair. "I don't want this to be so difficult, I swear! I thought if I could just - if we could just get together somehow, we'd end up all happy and no problems anymore and stuff, and now it's almost worse than before!"

Johnny opened his mouth. "You think it's worse?"

"No!" Stéphane shook his head. "No, I didn't mean - I meant, like, before, it was only this one thing, right, and I tried thinking about it as little as possible, because - well. It hurt. But now it's like I'm thinking about what's going on all the damn time and it's too much and I can't _stop_!"

Johnny scratched his head. "I vaguely remember saying that, like, not five minutes ago."

Stéphane shot him a deadly glare.

"I don't know what to do to make it go away!" Johnny shrugged. "I just don't. I thought we were okay when we got together. And now you _need_ stuff. And I have no idea what to say."

Stéphane shrugged. "Me either." He picked at the carpet some more.

"Mom's going to kill me if she sees the carpet's been picked," Johnny commented vaguely.

Stéphane stopped immediately, flushing. "Sorry."

"Look, I know these things you just said, they're not going to go away, right? I know, and I'm sorry, and I can't just - but can we still make out? Please? Because I promise, I really, really promise that we're not just fuckbuddies and I do love you and even though I'm not sure we're like, up there with the eternal soulmate brigade, I do think if we don't get up to anything soon, I might be forced to go back to Evan. I got more action from him."

Stéphane stared, opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened it to say something, before he closed it again. Finally, he managed to press out, while his hand was clenching to a fist by his side, "I thought you said you guys never fucked."

Johnny moved close and touched his jaw gently. "Hey, look, I didn't lie. Nothing ever happened. I tried to kiss him once and he blocked me. I'm sorry I said that, I didn't mean to upset you."

Stéphane nodded jerkily. "I -" he blushed. "I kissed the guy, you know. The - the one I went out with when you - after you said... he tried to, to get more, but I didn't want to."

Johnny grinned, breathing out. "That's good. We - we can learn together, I guess. And hey, you know, if it really doesn't work out with the two of us, you can believe me, your title will at least be, 'that one _best_ friend I fucked in high school'."

Stéphane rolled his eyes. "Not funny, Johnny."

"It was a little funny."

"It wasn't."

"Can we now?" Johnny tilted his head.

"You'll stop, right? When - when things get -"

"Yeah." At least he hoped so.

"Okay then. I guess."

Fucking finally, Johnny thought, and leaned in.

 

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

Their faces were really close, noses almost touching as they looked into each other's eyes. Stéphane's were deep brown and very pretty, with long, dark lashes. Johnny smiled a little, and he could see the smile reflected in Stéphane's pupils, felt him curl up the corners of his lips in response.

"I. Can I -?"

They were both blushing slightly, and he could hear and feel Stéphane's quickened breathing on his own cooling lips, felt like he was burning up on the inside where his lungs were supposed to be, and lower.

Stéphane leaned in this time, tilted his head to the side, just a brush again, but somehow, Johnny managed to catch his bottom lip and opened his mouth to taste, feel, to have _something_ more than just a simple ghost of a sensation.

He moved, shifted from his uncomfortable crouch onto his knees, hands on the floor, angled his body forwards so that he could hover a little above Stéphane's face, make their lips fit perfectly and suck and lick over them like he'd seen other couples do.

After a minute or two, Stéphane pulled away, breathing harshly, opened his eyes to stare back at Johnny. His gaze was veiled, dizzy with pleasure and happiness and his lips looked different, as if he'd been biting them, redder and glistening wetly from Johnny's mouth.

"Is this okay?" Johnny asked, moving closer, moving until their knees were touching and their thighs lined up. Then he put his hands left and right from Stéphane's body to have more support.

"Uh-huh," Stéphane mumbled, glanced at Johnny's mouth, desire written all over his expression. "Brilliant."

Johnny grinned. "Thanks."

That elicited a small laugh. "I didn't mean -"

"I know, I know, I'm a brillint kisser, what can I say. It's talent, I suppose. Probably genet-"

"- you do like to work out that tongue," Stéphane laughed.

"Am I hearing any protests?" Johnny teased, tipped his head so that his mouth brushed Stéphane's ear shell. Then he asked, voice smooth and perfectly hitched, "Would you rather have me fuck your mouth with it?"

He heard the gasp, and it charged through him like an elecric current, straight down to his cock, half-hard already before they'd even done anything, before he'd even touched it.

He closed the gap between them, barely an inch, no hesitation, just flooding desire to posess and arouse and this time, it wasn't just a simple kiss anymore; his hand found Stéphane's waist, tugged the shirt out of his jeans with a swift jerk and touched the skin underneath while his mouth opened under the kiss.

It was a bit wetter than before, more tongue, too, and Stéphane was actually playing back this time, not just giving in to the inevitable; Johnny'd thought it would be easy to make true of his promise, but Stéphane was quite skilled, especially as he'd put his right hand on Johnny's jaw and was eating into his mouth like a crazy person, like there was a championship in making sure every single spot in Johnny's mouth belonged to him.

Johnny deepened the kiss and felt Stéphane take a shuddering breath and wished he could do more, that he could ride up Stéphane's shirt and touch the plane of his lithe stomach, brush his fingertips over his nipples. He hardly even noticed that he'd bridged the last inches of space, had them pressed together chest to chest and that his knees were where his hands had been supporting him only minutes ago as their groins brushed.

"Uh, Johnny," Stéphane whispered into the kiss, never breaking it, and Johnny nibbled on his lip and licked over it to soothe, then pushed into his mouth, touching his tongue, effectively silencing him.

Stéphane's hand was still on his jaw, fingers warm and strong, holding him steady, his other flat on Johnny's back, caressing his spine gently, and it felt wonderful, sent shivers of delight through him for the heat and the friction and the sensation of their tongues curling around each other in Stéphane's mouth.

They kissed like that for a while, eyes closed, Johnny relaxing his leg muscles to sink down finally into Stéphane's lap, trying not to squirm too much so that he wouldn't get shoved off again, just letting himself sink into the other boy's mouth, letting him push back before he returned more firmly.

It worked for a good ten minutes, or maybe twenty, or maybe those were just two and Johnny just wished it had been so long and the time had drawn out into endlessness, but then Stéphane shifted, shifted again, moaning into his mouth, and his cock, hard, rubbed against Johnny's and Johnny didn't even think about it, just tipped them both over until Stéphane lay on the floor, back pressed against the carpet floor, with Johnny on top of him.

When Johnny slid up to get back at his lips, to take him and kiss him and bury his tongue inside his mouth again, he never even made it because suddenly, there was so much more contact between their bodies, fitting together like two parts of those broken hearts kids get for their necklaces when they fall in love, and Johnny felt Stéphane freeze, just for a second, before he ground down with his hips and got another deep, guttural moan out of him.

"Johnny," Stéphane muttered, pulling his head back down to kiss more, find more secrets inside the warm wetness of his mouth, and Johnny gave it to him, parted once, for a second, to say, "'s okay, I'm not -" and then, kissing again.

The rocking of their hips became more pronounced, Johnny could feel his back grow taunt and wanted Stéphane to touch him there, down his back, draw his fingers down his spine to where it ended, brush over that part of his body and maybe lower, where he could put his hands on Johnny's ass and make him feel better, better than this, even, and this already felt very fucking good.

"Oh, fuck, guys, I'm going to be blind," someone yelped.

Johnny jumped as if someone'd just hit him with a whip, back and off Stéphane, falling on his butt as he stumbled over his own legs. He could see Stéphane's eyes widen comically.

"Brian," Johnny hissed. "What the fuck are you doing in my room?"

Brian flushed. "Dude, it's not my fault. I knocked, like, three times, and I called your name, but you didn't answer and mom said to tell you guys that dinner's ready."

Johnny could feel himself burn with embarrassment and he didn't even dare meet Stéphane's eyes because he thought he might just die if they managed to lock gazes and think of the exact same thing in front of his baby brother.

"Fine, you told us, now bugger off." Johnny glared.

Brian lifted his hands. "Don't get your panties in a twist. Be glad it wasn't mom walking in on you. _That_ would have been embarrassing." He smirked, apparently already recovering from the shock.

Johnny wasn't quite as quick, and the new mental image didn't help either. "Just get the hell out," he muttered.

"Just, you know," Brian grinned. "Maybe you should try to look like you weren't just fucking each other's brains out before you come downstairs -"

"Brian, if you're not gone in two seconds," Johnny snapped, getting to his feet. Brian was gone in one, letting the door fall shut behind him. "Little pest," Johnny called after him.

Stéphane gave a snort.

Johnny rubbed his face, mortified, and said, "I really should invest in a lock to the stupid door, huh?"

"Ah... if you want to repeat that at some point, yeah. I guess you should."

Johnny felt himself breathe out in relief that Stéphane wasn't taking it too badly, he seemed almost cool with it. Which was strage, considering he'd kicked up a fuss not half an hour before, but then, it was all different, somehow, maybe. Johnny was getting the feeling the whole thing really was more trouble than it was worth.

Not that he wouldn't repeat and do exactly the same thing _again_ if he had the chance. Just next time, he'd lock the fucking door.

"How could we not have heard?" he wondered, slowly glancing over, finally, to meet Stéphane's eyes.

Stéphane was smiling, lips red and puffy and gleaming wet and his hair was a complete mess - as was his shirt, rumpled and wrinkled. Johnny wondered if he looked like that too and realized that Brian, for all the little asshole he was, might have been right about one thing, at least.

"He might not have knocked," Stéphane joked. "But I really doubt he's that interested in your sex life."

Johnny felt the grin spread across his face. "Yay, I have a sex life."

Stéphane rolled his eyes and said, slightly embarrassed, "We should really get downstairs, though. If your mom's waiting."

Johnny climbered over and dropped himself back onto his lap, smiling brightly. "Let me just finish that kiss," he said in reply to Stéphane's surprised what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. "After all, we were rudely interrupted."

"John-ny!" came Brian's voice from the hallway, unnervingly scheduled.

Johnny pressed a quick kiss to Stéphane's lips and yelled, "Fuck off!" before he did it again.

 

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

The day after they'd first made out - awesomely, on the fucking floor, Johnny crowed in his head every time he thought of it with a huge smile on his face - he found it was time to get over the embarrassment and visit the rink again. There hadn't been _many_ people there when he'd kissed Evan, after all.

The phone was in his hand at once, but before he could call, his mom walked past him and he halted, asked, "Hey, you don't need me today, do you?"

She shook her head. "You boys heading out?"

Johnny shrugged. "Dunno yet, but we might head to the rink. If you don't mind."

"No, no, but remember that your dad's operation is Friday, so don't plan anything for that, okay? We'll drive him out to the hospital."

"Yeah, no, of course I'll be there." Johnny rolled his eyes. "I remember, I'm not a kid."

She smiled at him. "I know." She patted his head. "Be careful later."

Johnny scowled and pushed her hand away. "I can skate. I'm good. I won't fall." He turned and steamed for a moment that she'd doubt his brilliance on the ice, then dialed. Stéphane picked up with a distracted, "Yes?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Johnny."

Johnny couldn't help the silly grin that spread over his face at the momentary change of voice.

"Let me just... hey, Chris, I'll take it to my room - oh, fuck off, we're not - Chris!"

Johnny laughed. "What'd he say?"

Stéphane grumbled something.

"Huh?"

"Not to defile the phone. Like we'd ever do anything like _that_."

Johnny hummed.

"Stop it."

"What?" Johnny laughed. "I'm not doing anything."

"I can hear you thinking about it. To here."

"You just think you're hearing me think about it, but in reality, it's your very own dirty thoughts, Stéph."

"... you're not helping your case."

"Spoilsport."

"Hm-hm. What did you want, anyway?"

"Phone sex."

"Hah. Funny."

Johnny grinned. "Well, it's not like we'd be breaking your no-touching-below-the-waist rule."

"I did not set up any such rule."

"Not verbally."

"I did not -"

"Oh, so you'd let me grope you, right now?"

"I'd like to see you try, right now," Stéphane commented dryly.

"... you've got a point." Dissappointed.

There was a little silence, then Stéphane said, carefully, "I thought you were okay with taking it slow?"

"I am. I was kidding!"

"Oh."

"Yeah. You don't believe me, do you?"

"It's hard to tell, sometimes. It's just... it's like, we only started making out yesterday, and it's already the maybe seventeenth allusion you've made to. You know."

"Us having sex?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"Johnny. Johnny, I didn't mean -"

"No, you're right. I'll stop."

"It just - I'm sorry, I didn't want to - I mean -"

"Just spit it out. Hell, I told you, if you can't tell me what's going on, I can't make it go away, and that's not how stuff like this works out. Right?"

"Right." Johnny heard Stéphane take a breath and then, "It just kinda feels like you're pushing, you know? And - well. It's making me feel guilty and I don't like it and I really just want to say yes while at the same time I wanna say no and it's really not fair."

"Do you wanna meet at the rink?"

Johnny could practically hear the blink. "Excuse me?"

"I was hoping we could go to the rink. It was why I called. We can - I don't like not seeing your face." He smiled. "Ever."

"I'm blushing," Stéphane said, with a very audible eyeroll.

"Aw, I was trying to be sweet."

"You can be sweet later. You can bring chocolate and we can kiss. That'll be sweet."

Johnny swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"Meet me there in ten?"

Stéphane gave a half-laugh. "No way in hell can you be there in ten minutes."

Johnny grinned. "With that incentive? I'll be there in five."

 

~*~

 

It was still warm outside, so he pulled a jersey over his shirt and got his skates and ran as soon as he was out of the door. His stamina sure had increased over the summer, what with all the running he and Stéphane had been doing, and so he did manage to arrive at the rink barely ten minutes later, face flushed and out of breath.

It figured, he thought with a pout, that Stéphane wasn't there yet. The bastard probably hadn't believed him. Well, it was his loss. Johnny wasn't going to wait until he moved his ass over; with a last glance around, he went in.

The lady at the counter was still the same as last year, and she recognized him immediately. He'd never told anyone about the times he'd been allowed in for free and she seemed to appreciate it because she smiled and gave him back half his money when he paid his entrance fee.

"Keep that; you better come back in a few days, though," she smiled.

"Thanks," he replied, red-cheeked. "Stéphane's coming in a bit. We had a race."

She laid her head to the side. "The dark, handsome kid you sometimes bring with you? He's a good skater. You guys could totally open your own show."

"Hah," Johnny laughed. "We would. But we're not quite that good yet. Maybe someday. Pity we're too old for the competition stuff. I wish we'd figured out it was so much fun earlier."

She shrugged. "Maybe not. Maybe it's good that you're just doing it for fun. I hear the pressure those athletes are under is real tough."

Johnny shrugged. "'s not like the rest of us have it any easier. Getting out of here, getting a good education, a good job - what's low-pressure about that?"

"True." She gave him a thoughtful look. Then she grinned. "Oh, hey, Evan's inside. He had to switch from Thursdays to Wednesdays because the hockey team's practice changed - I thought you'd be pleased to hear."

Johnny winced. Right. That much for chocolate kisses. It wasn't that he thought Stéphane would mind - it was just, well. Stéphane might mind.

"Thanks for the warning," he mumbled and then waved once more before he went inside. There were fewer people around than usually. Evan stood out like a birch tree among shrubbery. Of course, he managed to look around just at the time Johnny entered and instead of ignoring him, like usually happened in school, he waved.

Great, Johnny thought. He didn't want to be impolite. And he wasn't quite sure he was over the crush just yet. And he wasn't sure how to act anyway, if Stéphane was going to arrive in a few moments and just - confusing. Maybe, he finally decided, he was thinking too much. Stéphane was level-headed and he wasn't especially jealous. Was he?

Whatever Stéphane was got lost when Evan stopped by the boards at his side and smiled. "Hey. I was wondering when you'd pop back up. You weren't here a few weeks after the whole..." he waved his finger in the air, "... kissing thingie."

Johnny felt himself flush. "Ah... yeah. There was a thing. And then another thing. And... anyway, I'm here now, ain't I?"

Evan raised his hands. "I'm not your trainer. It wasn't a rebuke. I was just asking."

"Well, don't," Johnny said rather sharply.

Evan tilted his head. "Something wrong?"

"No. Nothing. I'll put my skates on, if you don't mind."

He took his time, after Evan'd shrugged and taken off to go on with his practice. He slowly took off his shoes and fiddled with the ties and kept glancing towards the entrance, just to make sure Stéphane hadn't come in yet.

But Stéphane didn't come. Johnny made the tying of his skates into an art that took him a good fifteen minutes to complete and Stéphane still hadn't arrived. Johnny glanced at his cell, but there was no call, no text message.

"Oh, fuck," he finally muttered, fed up, and got up to his feet, stamping onto the ice. Evan was watching him curiously.

 

~*~

 

"Whoops," Johnny said and tried to get his feet back under him.

"Wobbly legs?" Evan smiled. He'd caught Johnny by placing a hand on his lower back and helping him back up.

"More like, the bruises on my ass."

"They asking for company?"

Johnny grinned. "Oh, the lines my mind just came up with that your poor straight ears won't want to hear."

"You're right," Evan snorted. "They probably really won't."

They sat down next to each other amiably and started changing their boots.

"Have you ever thought about being part of a show?" Johnny asked, glancing over. "It's just, Anne from the counter up front mentioned something to me."

Evan shrugged. "I don't think they take people like us. Anyway, it's like endpoint of the world here, it's not like any figure skating shows ever come here. It's all hockey and soccer and stuff. Maybe once I go off to college, I'll be able to get into a club."

"Where do you wanna go to college?" Johnny finished up and stood, waiting for Evan to do the same, and they moved towards the exit.

"California, if possible." Evan smiled. "Maybe I'll make it into Stanford."

Johnny looked up at him. "I didn't know you were so good in school. You never say anything during class."

"Unlike you," Evan grinned.

"Hey, I can't help that I know all the answers."

"You're a Honor Roll Student, aren't you?"

"Yep. Mom's mighty proud." Johnny beamed, turned and walked through the door and almost ran into Stéphane who'd been just rushing over from the counter, flustered.

"Oh, shit, Johnny, you're finished, I'm so sorry, I thought I'd make it sooner, but Chris had a little accid... ent," he trailed off, gaze fastening upon Evan's face.

Johnny opened his mouth, but there was no indication of anything at all on Stéphane's face, so he didn't quite know what to say and closed it again.

"Hey," Evan said, giving Stéphane a toothless smile.

Stéphane glanced from him to Johnny and back to him, uncertain, and then he seemed to steel himself and instead of replying, he grabbed Johnny's waist with both hands, pulled him close and planted a long, wet kiss on him.

Johnny felt like flailing with his arms, but then Stéphane's tongue was in his mouth and he kind of melted into it, because, well, it felt nice. And wet. And that little motion of his tongue was definitely new, so probably, Stéphane got himself some pointers somewhere. Johnny closed his eyes and enjoyed it until it was over.

Stéphane didn't let go of his hips, even though he did of his mouth. His expression was a fierce glare as he turned to Evan. "Understood?"

Evan's eyebrows rose.

Johnny gave a little cough. "He's a little slow," he whispered. "You might need to demonstrate again."

Stéphane swatted his head. "Oh, shut up."

"I was just saying!"

Evan rolled his eyes. "You guys are really strange. And insecure. But mostly strange."

"It's his alpha personality streak. Sometimes, the urge to mark his territory becomes too strong. Say, Stéphane -"

"I wish you'd not say this," Stéphane mumbled. "But then, when do you ever not say something?"

"- if he was a little bolder, might that persuade you to ravish me in those locker rooms I see over there?"

Stéphane's face was very, very red. "I deserve this, don't I?"

"For standing me up? That, and so much more." Johnny gave him an evil smile and turned to Evan. "He's cockblocking, too. It's a wonder I even -"

"Johnny, I don't want to know," Evan interrupted, voice growing a little panicky.

"Ah, ignorance." Johnny smirked. "You sure? It'd have been quite funny to see this through."

"Do you ever not think about sex?" Stéphane groaned.

"Of course not. I'm a guy!"

"One could wonder," Evan muttered.

"You take that back!" Johnny gaped.

"Yes," Stéphane agreed. "Please, Evan, take it back. He might drop his panties right here, right now."

"I do not wear panties!"

"No, sorry, that was just that once, right?"

"And how do you even know about that? It was a secret. Nobody knew about it!"

Stéphane smirked. "There's a lot of things I know about you. Like that one time, you -"

"Eh, guys?"

Johnny glanced at Evan. "We're not usually this scary."

"No, actually, he's at his best behaviour right now," Stéphane mumbled.

"Ver-rey funny," Johnny glared. "Who was the one with the idea for chocolate make-out marathons?"

"I never said anything about marathons!"

"But -"

"Oh, hey, look."

Johnny stopped in mid-speech, looking around. "Hey, where did Evan go?"

Stéphane shrugged. "I think you scared him off. Way to go, buddy. That way, you'll never get into his pants."

Johnny sneaked up and put his arm around Stéphane's waist, pulling him close while his other found its way stealthily below his shirt. "What if it's yours I want into."

Stéphane rolled his eyes and stopped his fingers from wandering. "How about we put that off for a while yet and stay with the making-out, for now? We can go into the locker rooms. Does that satisfy your need for adventure?"

"Definitely," Johnny agreed. "And hey, how's your brother?"

Stéphane grinned. "Oh, he's fine. Apparently, _he_ can't keep it in his pants. Mom caught him in flagrante with a girl. She made all three of us sit through another talk."

"Fuck," Johnny said, and then grinned back. "How the hell do I end up with the wrong brother?"

"And for that, Johnny, I'm revoking all your kissing rights. You're disgusting."


End file.
